


Hotline

by icouldnotsee (herprettysleeper)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Suicide, This Is Sad, i'm upset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herprettysleeper/pseuds/icouldnotsee
Summary: In which Dean calls the wrong number.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I played the game Don’t Take This Risk and I’m still thinking about it. Thus my solution: write a fic. But really–if you ever feel like taking your life, please don’t. You may not think it, but you are an important addition to our world. My inbox is always open <3

“Hello,” the voice says. His voice is gruff–he sounds like he’s been crying. “I’m Dean. Is this the suicide hotline?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “You have the wrong number.”

He chuckles slightly–it’s humorless. “Well, guess that’s just the universe saying I shouldn’t have called. I’ll hang up now.”

“Wait!” You call out. You can’t let the line die–you don’t know what’ll happen. “Don’t hang up.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You don’t care about me.”

“No, I do. And people care about you, too. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. That’s the problem. I destroy everything I touch. I shouldn’t be here. People around me, they get killed. I’m like poison. Now, remove the poison…”

“Wait. Think about this. If there are people that care about you, then removing yourself from the world could hurt them. If you won’t stop for you, stop for them,” you try.

He’s silent for a bit. “Sam’ll be a mess.”

You assume Sam’s a relative. “So stay alive.”

“He’ll get over it, eventually. Goodnight, miss. And–thank you.”

The line hangs up–you panic and call once, twice, fourteen times. He doesn’t answer. You try finding his phone by GPS–it’s off.

You send a text.

**Are you okay?**

_hi_

_you don’t know me_

_thank you for talking to me_

_i bet you’re pretty_

_i bet you’re an angel_

_are you an angel?_

**No, I’m not. Could you please tell me where you are?**

_oh, i thought you were an angel_

_i don’t remember where i am_

_it’s cold here_

_i’m so cold_

_i took a lot of pills_

_i think i drank too much too_

_it’s okay_

_i’m okay_

_are you okay?_

**I’m fine–can you tell me what you see around you?**

_the bunker_

_sammy went out to get something to eat_

_i feel dizzy_

**Are you in your house?**

_i don’t call it a house or an apartment_

_it’s the bunker_

_that’s a funny word_

_i don’t want sam to find me_

_i feel so sick_

_what’s your name?_

**Y/N. Dean, please call 911.**

_that’s a pretty name_

_i don’t want to_

_if i call them they’ll save me_

_i don’t want to be saved_

_i had my chance and i blew it._

_i just want it to end._

**Please tell me where you are. Please. I’ll be sad if you die.**

_you’ll get over it._

_i think you’re lying to me._

_you’re an angel, aren’t you?_

_will i go to hell?_

_i’m sorry_

_i didn’t mean to_

_i’m sorry_

**Dean, are you okay?**

_i feel so sick_

_i threw up_

_sammy’s gonna be mad_

_i’m sorry_

_i’m so sorry._

_i’m_

The messages stop, and you panic. You call him, and he picks up.

“Miss,” he says, sounding half-asleep. Half dead.

“Dean, can you call someone?”

“I can’t think. It hurts. I’m sorry–”

He starts to gurgle, then choke. He coughs at first, and then he’s gasping, over and over again, until that stops, and what you hear is minimal. There’s a sound, like the phone dropping.

Then silence.

“Dean?”

Nothing.

You call 911. “I need help,” you say. “I just got a call, and I don’t know where he is.”

You’re walking out of your apartment when you see the results.

There are paramedics at one of the apartments down the hall, and a taller man with long brown hair crying, as several people hold him back.

“He’s my brother!” He screams. “I have to go with him!”

They try to calm him down, tell him that they need space first to move him.

He asks if Dean is going to be okay.

You stop thinking.

You see Sam every day after that, silent and broken.

Dean never comes back to the apartment.


End file.
